On the Street Where You Live
by chocolafied
Summary: It was silly; a man in his early fifties walking as if he was a teenager once more, but it was the truth nonetheless. Ezio Auditore da Firenze was in love for the first time in a long time.


**Yay for another Ezio/Sofia fic! Inspired by Dean Martin's "On the Street Where You Live" Any feedback is loved ^^**

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It was silly; a man in his early fifties walking as if he was a teenager once more, but it was the truth nonetheless. Ezio Auditore da Firenze was in love for the first time in a _long_ time. Every time he passed the old Polo trading post, without fail, his old heart would faintly flutter in his chest against bones that were now beginning to ache with age. The assassin's mind would go blank, if even for a moment, and he would think of no one else but the lovely Sofia Sartor, though she mostly kept inside and attended to her book collection.

With every passing day that he spent in Constantinople, he lingered outside of the shop for just a few more seconds with every accumulating passing of the book shop. It was becoming a habit that a goofy grin would creep across his face, eyebrows rising and smile widening as he made his way inside. Sofia seemed to welcome his presence with more warmth as he visited more frequently.

When prompted for an answer as to why he was visiting her for the fifth or so time that week, he would blame it on the heat; say he was in the neighborhood, checking up on her progress with deciphering the map, etc. The Venetian woman merely stared at him for a good moment, raising her eyebrows and giving the old man a knowing look with those sparkling emerald eyes of hers. If she knew his real intentions of visiting her so often, she never said a word about it, merely walking around him to another side of the map on her desk and continuing the discussion at hand.

Ezio could tell he was overstepping the boundaries between friendship and infatuation when he would show up at her shop at night time, around eight or nine o'clock, hopping in through a window that she would open after prompting her to do so by tapping on it, or knocking on the door. He personally preferred the window. The old man loved seeing the confused smile that played across her bewildered face as she blinked at him several times. Ezio would just wink at her before walking past her.

He didn't need to look at her to tell she was rolling her eyes at him, followed by "_Davvero?"_ or _"Pazzo assassin…" _being muttered beneath her breath as she closed the portal that Ezio came through, almost slamming it sometimes when she heard him chuckle in response before taking hasty steps to join up with him and treat him to a cup of tea or a light repast with some light conversation. Though in his fifties, he felt like he was in his early twenties once more; the visits were reminding him of his time with Cristina where he would sneak into her room at night. Sofia would see the nostalgia cross over his face for a brief moment, studying his distant gaze before he came back from his thoughts. They were the only sign of his true age besides the small strands of white that began invading his beard and black strands of hair. With the fire rumbling in the background and books cluttering a portion of the table, she somehow always managed to fit a tea set onto the table and pour herself and Ezio a cup of the hot beverage to hopefully warm his insides.

Reluctantly, Ezio would leave after an hour or so of talking with her, remembering his other responsibilities and priorities. Wishful thinking told him that she was just disappointed as he was that their time together once more had come to an abrupt end, but they shared a smile as she showed him to the door…or window. Tomorrow was always another day to make up a crappy excuse to see her once more or look for a distinguishing jade colored dress and a red head of hair throughout the day.

When he wasn't breaking and entering with consent into her bookshop at peculiar hours at night, he would fall into the habit of looking for her among the crowds of people that he passed by on the street as he walked around the old city, the only thing seeming to be older than himself. His brown eyes would search for her, and he would only catch himself in the act when he saw her walking with her basket held close to her hip, a small smile on her face as she scrutinized the merchandize for sale in the market stalls and that the vendors shouted over one another to get people to buy their goods.

Ezio's body was faster than his brain could process his actions. He was making his way over to her, casually greeting her with a warm smile under his hood. She would look up at him, the assassin walking by her side as she skimmed and sifted through goods and wears, both keeping light and casual dialogue between them. When looking back at this, Ezio automatically compared himself to a small puppy, following Sofia and waiting for her to give him attention and make him feel wanted. Love apparently did not know age, along with logic.

He would offer to hold her basket for her, completely forgetting about the threats lurking about in the city for a short while and pushing his agenda even further back than he had the last time he had done so. As long as he was in Sofia's company, he wouldn't have seemed to mind if the whole world came crashing down behind him.

Ezio would walk with her, offering his arm which she gratefully took with increasing speed the more times he offered it to her. She would talk about the map that he had found for her, the books that she had recently acquired or ones she was planning to do so, other sources of information that she had; Ezio frankly couldn't bring himself to mind her ambitious ramblings. He just loved hearing her talk as she walked by his side, too busy with his head in the clouds and walking with clouds beneath his feet to realize the odd stares that he and Sofia gained from other bystanders and gossipers.

Whenever he had some spare money, he would treat her to a cup of coffee or tea and they would sit at a patio café that overlooked a good portion of the city and some of the harbor. Sofia would then ask Ezio about some of his travels, of which he delivered in small doses; whether it was to keep her asking for more or fear of chasing her away, he was no longer sure of. All he knew was that his brain was programmed to spend as much waking time as he could with her. After a good half an hour at the café, they would leave, arm in arm once more as they walked down the streets. He let go of her arm and let her walk ahead of him in the crowded sections, never more than a few inches away from her, a comfort that he enjoyed giving to the woman, who seemed just as eager to receive it.

On one occasion, they passed by the flower vendor as the sun was setting. Ezio was holding her basket for Sofia with one hand while letting her hold onto his free arm. When he saw the floral arrangement on the stands, the thought of buying her a bouquet came across his mind, something that seemed very tempting to do. Sofia looked up at him, asking him a question of some sort. The startled assassin blinked in mild surprise and gave a hesitant "_si"_ in reply, smiling at her once more.

Normally, he would walk her back to the bookshop and spend an extra half an hour there, just chatting with her. He never thought he would relate to the British with their "tea time" until he met Sofia. He had no preference for the beverage beforehand, but love makes people do…peculiar things, to say the least, thinking peculiar things as well, something that Ezio could confirm with every corpse that he ever had to lay to rest and every target that he ever had. The train of thought that Ezio had with Cristina, he never thought it would return but it had, blazing along the railroad tracks full speed ahead with damaged wheels and mechanisms.

Ezio was so fond of Sofia now that he never dare think to leave her company unless he had no choice to do so. He was contemplating moving in with her, sleeping under the same roof with her so he wouldn't have to travel far in order to see her on an almost daily basis. And then that's when he realized he was absolutely _smitten_; wanting to live with her, contemplating camping out on the street where she lived, bringing her flowers and other gifts, pleasantly surprisingly every way he could such as small notes on the door to her shop, a small riddle here and there as to where he wanted to meet up with her, bringing her coffee or tea in the morning.

He was in love again, and somehow, though with his older and worn body and with the baggage he carried with him, he couldn't help but grin at the fact that she didn't seem to mind in the least.

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_Davvero - _Really?

_Pazzo assassin… - _Crazy assassin...


End file.
